Songs of Glory
by hellosunshine92x
Summary: A bunch of songfics depicting Roger's life from the summer before he leaves for NYC to the day he dies. April/Roger, Mimi/Roger, and possibly eventual Mark/Roger.
1. Something Left to Give

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own most of this stuff. I do not own Rent or the characters of Rent. They belong to the late, great Jonathan Larson. I also do not own the lyrics to Something Left to Give. They belong to The Starting Line. This isn't written for money, durf. It's written for fun. Thanks. Reviews would be wonderful, but don't feel pressured into giving me some. I hope you enjoy it!

Senior year. It was the end our senior year. I can't believe four years went by so fast... I'm on my back, in the grass. It's a summer night and I'm surprised to see that the stars are out, but I don't take it for granted. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

_I've got stars in my great big sky_

_I shall gaze upon without leaving small ones behind_

_Because they're harder to find_

_Some were satellites, others planes_

_Some were twinkling while others were fading away_

_But they're all one of a kind_

"Roger?" I turn to face Mark, my best friend since freshmen year. Mark, he's been more than my best friend, he's been... "Rog?" I shake my head to clear it. "What's going to happen to... I mean. This is it." I laugh softly to myself. He sounds like I'm dying. "I mean, I'm going to Brown in the fall and you're moving to New York City. What's going to happen to us? Jesus, Roger. What's in New York City, anyway?" My heart sinks. What will happen to us? I'm not exactly sure, but I can't worry about Mark. Not right now. I need to focus on me and my guitar. He doesn't know it, but I'm going to become a rock star. I'm going to write songs and leave a mark on society. He doesn't know it yet.

_Oh it's not that interesting_

_But I'd like to keep it a secret_

_So I'll have something left to give_

_It's not that difficult when you've got a luck of this kind_

_We've got to take advantage, we've got such limited time_

_Oh I wonder, oh I wonder_

_How long to take me to die_

_Oh it's not that interesting_

_But I'd like to keep it a secret_

_So I'll have something left to give_

"Mark?" He turns to me and smiles weakly, sadly. "I'm going because I want to do something big." His expression doesn't change, but I can tell he's listening intently. "I wanna become... Hey, don't laugh! Alright?" He shakes his head. "I wanna become a rock star. I wanna write songs that people know. You know? Those songs that get stuck in your head that you can't seem to ever get out. I wanna write stuff like that, but not just stupid shit. I wanna leave a piece of me behind in the songs I write." I can feel myself blushing. I've never told anyone this, but it's Mark. I trust him. "Does that make any sense?" He smiles a huge, toothy grin and I feel relieved as he scoots closer to me on the grass and squeezes my hand. I know he understands.

_And I'll hear my children and grandchildren sing_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_It's not that interesting but I'd like to keep it a secret_

_So I'll have something left to give_

_In my remaining years_

_When I am old and plain lazy_

_I'll have a little something left to give_

_To all those who loved me so much_

_I'd like to return the favor_

_And have something left to give _

We lay together for awhile, under the stars, our hands clasped together, never wanting to let go. Everything in this moment feels so right, but I know it can't last forever. It won't last for much longer. I'm already packed. I still have to tell Mom, and I know she's not going to take it well. I'll try to explain to her, but I know she won't understand like Mark. She doesn't get it, but I'll die here. New York City, that's where it's at. I'm going to thrive there. I'm going to leave everything behind in this shithole and never look back. I turn to Mark. His eyes are closed and I have to question if he's asleep. I smile to myself and turn back to the stars. Well, I won't leave everything behind...

_And I'll hear my children and grandchildren sing_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_It's not that difficult when you've got a luck of this kind_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_To all those who loved me so much, I'd like to return the favor_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_I wonder oh I wonder, how long to take me to die_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_Blah la la la da da da_

_It's not that interesting but I'd like to keep it a secret_

_And have something left to give_


	2. Give and Take

**DISCLAIMER: **Again, I do not own Rent nor do I own the characters of it. They belong to Jonathan Larson. I don't own the song, either. Give and Take belongs to Forever the Sickest Kids. Now, I wasn't going to post this chapter for another week, but I'm anxious, so whatever. It's midnight here, which officially makes it a day later. I might also post the third chapter, considering this one is very short and doesn't really move the story along. Reviews are nice, but not a necessity. Enjoy!

I take one last drag on my cigarette before throwing it aside and stomping it out. Sighing heavily, I pick up the receiver of the payphone with one hand and jam the other into the pocket of my leather jacket. Seventy two cents and a pack of gum. It's enough for a phone call, at least. Cling, cling, cling, the change falls into the phone and is lost forever. Fuck. I try to reassure myself that it's worth it. Ring, ring, ring. Ring, ring, ri-- "Hello?" Shit. It's him.

_And there's a pause if you hurt me I'll hurt you too_

_I can bat around this place I can't get over you_

_So wait to save me I'll save you too_

_So wait to save me I'll save you too_

_If you'll look for me you'll find me baby_

_We were the best of the rest of_

_If you'll look for me you'll find me baby_

_We were the best of the rest of friends_

_Ziggy Ziggy la la._

_Friends Ziggy Ziggy ha ha._

_Friends._

_Ziggy Ziggy la la._

_Friends Ziggy Ziggy ha ha._

"Hello? Is there anyone there?" I find my voice again and although it's been about six or seven months since I've last talked to him, I feel as comfortable as ever. "Roger...? Roger, oh my God, is that you? What the hell happened!? I haven't heard from you in-- What? You hate it there? But Roger, what happened to-- You what?! Rog... I can't just up and move... I'm broke. My parents are paying for me to stay here. I can't just-- Filming is just my hobby. I'm not going to get anywhere with it. I'm-- Christ, stop cutting me off! I can't just drop out and come looking for you, Roger. It was your brilliant plan to move to the city. And do you know what? I supported you, but you just... You forgot about me... No! Don't give me that bullshit. Go find your song, Roger. Just go." He hangs up on me.

_And I have lost my mind_

_And I am lost in time_

_I can barely think of anything straight_

_And I can barely feel anything real_

_And I can barely think of anything straight_

_And I can barely feel anything real_

_So wait to save me I'll save you too_

_So wait to save me I'll save you too_


	3. Nowhere Fast

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own Rent. It belongs to Jonathan Larson. Don't own Nowhere Fast. It belongs to Head Automatica. I decided to just post this because, as I've said in the previous chapter, I'm anxious. This is my favorite chapter out of the ones I've written so far, so I really, really hope you guys like it. Reviews are loved, but not necessary. Uhm. Also, I know the last chapter ended with Mark saying he wasn't moving to the city. This chapter is supposed to take place months later, so you're supposed to assume he finally gives in and moves. Sorry if that was confusing. Anyway, now that that's out of the way, enjoy.

Mark smiles at me as I come off the stage. I don't know why he's smiling. I'm sweaty, my eyeliner is running, and my set sucked. "You sounded incredible." Either he's lying to me or he doesn't know shit about good music. "You wanna go get something to eat? My treat." What the hell is he talking about? He's broke. I shake my head, declining, and motion towards a redhead standing in the doorway of the club. "Ohhhhh... Well, I'll just meet you back at the loft, then." I shrug. "Oh, alright. I won't wait up, then. See you later, Rog." There's a tinge of sadness in his voice, but I stand there and watch him leave, staring at his back as he gets smaller and smaller. The redhead gives him a look of disdain as he passes her. Anger wells up in my stomach but quickly settles down. She really is hot and I need to get laid.

"Hey, cutie." She smiles, big white teeth stained with blood red lipstick. "You sounded incredible." She growls at the end of her statement and it makes me believe her more than when Mark said it. I feel her lips against mine and I give in to the familiar taste of cigarettes and vodka. All these girls taste the same. "Let's get out of here." Finally. I wrap my arms around her waist and lead her out of the smokey club, cheap colored lights flickering dimly in our path. We end up in a nearby parking lot and she makes herself comfortable on the hood of someone's car. I give her a strange look. "Oh, you thought we were going to...?" She laughs, chuckles cruelly, and I feel stupid for not understanding her intentions. I'm ready to get up and leave when she grabs my arm. "Where're you going, baby? I have something else in mind. Let me give you wings."

_I needed just a hit, one hit_

_It's a very little hit_

_I'm sure I won't like it_

_I needed to be heard_

_One hit would send me flying_

_I got away with murder last night in the parking lot_

_In cold blood I have murdered parts of us that we forgot_

I'm not addicted. Mark's wrong. It's love, not addiction. I'm in love with April. I'm in love with life, in love with feeling good. Mark says I used to be in love with music, he says that I've changed. Do you know what I think? I think Mark's just fucking jealous. I grunt to myself as I grab my leather jacket and leave for CBGB's. She's waiting there, of course, with the same chesire cat smile curving her red lips. "Hey, baby. Back for more?" We kiss and I can almost taste the drugs pulsing through the veins in her lips.

_I walked into a kiss, one kiss_

_From the very lovely miss who lives to fulfill my wish_

_I needed to be heard_

_One kiss would send me flying_

_I got away with murder last night in the parking lot_

_In cold blood I have murdered parts of us that we forgot_

_I will be going nowhere_

_I will be going nowhere_

_I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast_

The more I see April, the less I want to write songs and play my guitar. I don't think it's a big deal, but Mark has been getting on my ass about it. He doesn't get it. I don't need music, not anymore. All I need now are my girls: April and Hera. My girls are what keep me going, keep me alive. "What about your song, Rog?" He keeps asking me. "What about leaving a mark on society? What about writing meaningful lyrics? What about--?" I always block him out after the first question. My eyes burn, my stomach is clenching and turning, and the last thing on my mind is fucking music. I need a hit. I only have enough for a nickel bag, but I don't care. It's enough to get me high. I stagger when I lift myself up and Mark steadies me before I fall back onto the couch. "Roger..." Concern glistens in the pools of blue he has for eyes, but it's easy for me to ignore it. I try to yank myself free of his grip, but end up smashing back against his chest, instead. Did he get stronger, or am I getting...? Fuck it. I try again and am finally released of him. I leave the loft without a goodbye.

_I had to write a hit, one hit_

_It's a very little hit_

_I'm sure you wont like it_

_I needed to be heard_

_One hit would send me flying_

_I got away with murder last night in the parking lot_

_In cold blood i have murdered parts of us that we forgot_

_And in the end I grant you a farewell and final kiss_

_I got away with murder_

_Who's the next to make the list?_

_I will be going nowhere_

_I will be going nowhere_

_I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going no_

_I will be going nowhere, nowhere fast_

_* _For those of you that don't know: "Giving wings" refers to the first time someone learns how to shoot up, "Hera" is a slang term for heroine, and "a nickel bag" is five bucks worth of drugs. If I missed anything else, lemme know. Thanks!


	4. The Ghost of You

**DISCLAIMER: **This is getting redundant. D; Don't own Rent. It belongs to J. Larson. Don't own "Ghost of You". It belongs to My Chemical Romance. Now, I usually don't ask for reviews, but considering I'm getting a bunch of views on this story, I'd really like to know people's opinions of it. I'm assuming people like it, but we all know what assuming does. Soooo, yeah. Reviews would be wonderful. As always, enjoy.

I find her slumped against the sink, her back turned from me and her face hidden from view. I call her name, but there's no response. I try again, but she doesn't even bother to acknowledge me. Oh, I get it now. She's fucking high and nodding out. Jesus, I told her not to do it here. She knows how Mark gets. I put my hand on her shoulder, but she doesn't move. I call her again. She must be having a bad trip. This time, I shake her, hoping to snap her out of it, but something isn't right... She's not breathing... Just... Just smiling that same wicked smile that stretches from one ear to the other. Horrified, I trace her lips. They're soft and beautiful, but, oh God... the pulse beneath them is completely gone. She's dead.

_I never said I'd lie and and wait forever_

_If I died we'd be together_

_I can't always just forget her_

_But she could try_

_At the end of the world or the last thing I see_

_You are never coming home_

_Never coming home_

_Could I?_

_Should I?_

_And all the things that you never ever told me_

_And all the smiles that are ever ever _

I quickly pull my fingers away to find them stained red. I'm not sure if it's lipstick or blood. I reach for the toilet and hug it to my chest, gagging and choking up bile. It stings and burns on the way up and I grab my throat, gasping for breath. This can't be fucking happening... This can't be... "Roger?" Shit, I woke him up. No, Mark, don't come into the bathroom. Don't come into the fucking bathroom... I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my pullover and crawl to the door, struggling to lock it. "Rog, are you alright in there?" I hear a yawn and then footsteps as I desperately fumble with the lock, my hands shaking so bad I'm afraid they'll fall off before it's too late. Thump, thump, thump, one after another and quickening in pace. Finally, I hear the glorifying sound of a click and I know I've got it. Relief washes over me. I smirk to myself and lean back against the bathroom door. He'll never have to know.

_Ever_

_Get the feeling that you're never_

_All alone and I remember now_

_At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies_

_She dies_

_At the end of the world_

_Or the last thing I see_

_You are never coming home_

_Never coming home_

_Could I?_

_Should I?_

_And all the things that you never ever told me_

_And all the smiles that are ever gonna hold me_

My senses are fucked, but I can still hear light knocking turn into heavy banging and calm coaxing turn into struggled yells of desperation. I hear him tell me that if I don't open the door right now, he'll knock it down himself, but I don't care. I lay against the door and stare at her gorgeous, lifeless body, as I flip the soaked razor over and through my fingers. She's still beautiful, even now... I begin to talk to her, wondering if she can hear me. I tell her that I read the note. We've got AIDS, that's what it says. I chuckle as I rip up the gum wrapper she had written it on. The bitch didn't even have enough fucking decency to write it on real paper. I tell her that I hate her for leaving me here while she took the easy way out. I scream at her, I tell her that we're over. And then I laugh. Of course we're over, she's dead. Dead, dead, dead. I call her a coward, and a whore, and a slew of other names that come out as gasps and slurs as I begin to sob.

_Never coming home_

_Never coming home_

_Could I?_

_Should I?_

_And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me_

_For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me_

_If I fall_

_If I fall_

_Down_

More knocking, more screaming. It's not only Mark now. I'm pretty sure I hear Collins, too, but I won't dare open the door to check. Instead, I crawl back to her body and cradle it in my arms, kissing her, and apologizing for the things I had just said. Her body is limp and her arms hang like those of a ragdoll or marionette. I swallow hard and between the sobs I manage to sing a soft lullaby to her corpse. It's the same one my mother used to sing me: day is done, gone the sun, from the lake, from the hills, from the sky... I stop when I realize that she's bleeding on me. Frantically, I begin to rip off sheets from the roll of toilet paper. I try to clean her up, but it's no use. One after another, the little white squares bleed red and fall to the floor like rose petals. One after another, they fall and I watch them, thinking about the disease that they now hold deep within their fibers. But I turn to her, eyes red from tears, voice cracked from sorrow, and I tell her that it's going to be okay. I tell her it's going to be okay...

_At the end of the world_

_Or the last thing I see_

_You are never coming home_

_Never coming home_

_Never coming home_

_Never coming home_

_And all the things that you never ever told me_

_And all the smiles that are ever gonna hold me_

_Never coming home_

_Never coming home_

_Could I?_

_Should I?_

_And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me_

_For all the ghosts that are never gonna..._


	5. Meant to Live

**DISCLAIMER**: Sorry for the long wait, guys! School is right around the corner and I'm trying to finish all my summer homework in time. I tried to do some different things in this chapter for two reasons. 1. It's been awhile since the last update and 2. Depressed Roger makes me depressed. :( Now, there's some Mark/Roger stuff in this chapter. Take it as a really thick friendship or Roger's budding infatuation. It's all your choice. Also, Maureen's in this chapter! It's my first time trying to get inside her character. Let me know how I do? Anyway, here's chapter five. Rent doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Jonathan Larson. "Meant to Live" doesn't belong to me, either. It belongs to Switchfoot. Reviews are absolutely loved. Enjoy!

"Roger, please?" Mark begs me with big, hopeful eyes, only enlarged by the thick lenses of his glasses. "Please. Just... Just try it? It might help. I know you feel sick... I know, but..." At this point, I don't want to listen to him anymore. He knows I feel sick? Yeah, he thinks he knows. This isn't the common cold. It's not the fucking sniffles, Mark. This is a week and a half without any smack in my system, this is my body threatening to kill me if I don't give it what it wants, what it needs. This, Mark, this is withdrawal. And if I ever make it through this, I'm just going to die, anyway. This is my own body betraying me. No. You have fucking idea... I turn away, but when he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it protectively, I can't help but to face him. "But you can't just give up on music because April gave up on you..." I feel my stomach clench and I'm not exactly sure if it's my body's fault or Mark's. That was a low blow. I swat him away and give him a look that says "get the fuck out" without actually having to say the words. He sighs. He's losing patience with me, I can tell. "Alright. I can see you're not ready yet. Just think about it." He leaves the guitar on my lap and leaves my room. I stare at the Fender, but before I know it, my head is inside the plastic pickle tub beside my bed and I'm heaving.

_Fumbling his confidence_

_And wondering why the world has passed him by_

_Hoping that he s meant for more than arguments_

_And failed attempts to fly, fly_

Mark is fast asleep beside me, snoring gently and clutching at my pillow. I'm wearing his clothes because all of mine are either soiled or soaked in vomit, and neither of us have money for the laundromat. Before he knocked out, I told him he should be in Maureen's bed, not mine, but he refused to leave me alone tonight. Collins left a few weeks ago. He got some kind of fancy teaching job at MIT. Every few weeks he sends us money, but it's just enough for stuff like food and my AZT, so Mark lets me borrow his clothes. They're a bit tight on me, but I'm desperate for warmth. I'm shivering. My hair is still wet from the shower he gave me and it's only making me more cold. I turn onto my side and curl up in a ball. I put my shivering hands in front of my face and I see the blood... I see the crimson beads dripping off of her lips and on to my fingers... I see it, I see it... I can hear myself starting to sob and I see myself thrashing back and forth. It's surreal... Almost like I'm watching a movie. Then I see Mark's arms around me and he's telling me I'm having another nightmare.

_We were meant to live for so much more_

_Have we lost ourselves?_

_Somewhere we live inside_

_Somewhere we live inside_

_We were meant to live for so much more_

_Have we lost ourselves?_

_Somewhere we live inside_

We're sitting at the kitchen table now. A bowl of Cap'n Crunch and a half eaten cheese sandwich sit before me, one hardly looking more unappetizing than the other. I look across the table at Mark who's giving me an expecting look. I gulp softly, slowly picking up the cheese sandwich, bringing it to my lips, and... God, it smells awful. I put it back on the plate and he sighs. I apologize. I really am sorry... "It's okay, Rog." He says gently. "Just try the other." I nod and lift the spoon out of the cereal bowl. There's hardly any milk, so Mark gives me a glass of water to make sure I get it down. "C'mon, Roger. You have to eat." I stare at the cereal in the spoon before dropping it back in the bowl, then scooping it back up again. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" He gives me a playful smirk and I almost smile. I take a deep breath before shoving the spoon into my mouth and choking down the tiny corn squares. When I finish, I open my mouth and lift up my tongue to prove that the food's gone. Mark had caught on to my trick of hiding the squares under my tongue. I close my mouth and cough a little before taking a drink of the water. He's behind me now, rubbing my back and whispering softly into my ear. "I'm so proud of you, Rog. Really. You're gonna be fine." I want to believe him so bad... I fold my arms over each other on the table and rest my head on them. "Rog? Take your AZT."

_Dreaming about providence_

_And whether mice or men have second tries_

_Maybe we ve been livin with our eyes half open_

_Maybe we're bent and broken, broken_

_We were meant to live for so much more_

_Have we lost ourselves?_

_Somewhere we live inside_

_Somewhere we live inside_

_We were meant to live for so much more_

_Have we lost ourselves?_

_Somewhere we live inside_

Getting me to eat was one thing, but at this point, I'm pretty sure he's lost his mind. "You need to get out. Let's go." Maureen nods in agreement and I can't help but to smirk. It's about the only time she's ever agreed with him. "Pookie's right, Roger. You need to get out! This isn't healthy!" She whines before leaving Mark's side to cling to mine. She grabs my arm and sighs dramatically, tugging on my shirt like a six year old tugs on his mother's. "You HAVE to come tonight! I'm doing my new performance piece: Toliet Paper: The Abuse of Trees for Our Own Comfort. You just gotta come!" I scoff, wrapping myself in my blanket and lifting myself off of the couch. I take a seat at the window and stare out of it, ignoring the happy couple behind me. "Fine, Roger! Fine. You know, you need fresh air! You're just going to die if you suffocate yourself up here for the rest of your life!" I clench my fists and shudder. I can hear Mark telling her to be more careful with her words. I can hear her artificial apology to him. They're both speaking softly. I don't think they want me to hear them, but I do, anyway. Then it's silent. It's silent for what feels like hours. "We need to get going." Mark finally says in his normal volume. "We'll be at the lot, if you decide to change your mind." I don't say anything, I don't nod, I don't give him any sort of aknowledgement. I just stare out the window until I hear the door close. They're gone, but I still don't turn around. I listen to their footsteps go down the stairs. I watch them as they exit the building, smiling, and kissing, and holding hands as they walk. It finally becomes too much to bear and I turn away.

_We want more than this world s got to offer_

_We want more than this world s got to offer_

_We want more than the wars of our fathers_

_And everything inside screams for second life_

_We were meant to live for so much more_

_Have we lost ourselves?_

_We were meant to live for so much more_

_Have we lost ourselves?_

_We were meant to live for so much more_

_Have we lost ourselves?_

_We were meant to live_

_We were meant to live_


	6. Everything is Alright

**DISCLAIMER**: Rent doesn't belong to me, it belongs to Jonathan Larson. "Everything is Alright" doesn't belong to me, either. It belongs to Motion City Soundtrack. This chapter is a bit slow, and definitely not one of my favorites, but it had to be done at some point or another. I know there's a bit of ADD and drabble in it, so I apologize in advance. Next chapter will be better, I promise. You might have to wait a bit for it, though. I start school on Wednesday and it's sure to be hectic for awhile. Dx So, I hope this little bit of Mark/Roger interaction can satisfy you until then. Reviews are incredibly loved. Enjoy.

"Well, what do you think?" My ears perk up. There's a question mark at the end of that statement, isn't there? Dammit. He's been talking for a good ten minutes, but I was only tuned in for the first two or three. "Rogerrrrr? Hellooooo?" He waves his hands in front of my face and I finally snap out of my own thoughts, putting my guitar aside and looking into his eyes. "Do you think she's cheating on me?" Yes. Yes. Yes! I shake my head. "Really?" I nod. Yes. She REALLY is cheating on you, but I don't have the guts to tell you. "I mean, you would know." I glare at him. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? "Oh, no! Not that you... I just mean... It's not like that... Just. You know, you've been with a lot of girls. I figure you'd know better than me." I nod and go back to strumming the Fender. C chord. D chord. E chord. F chord. F chord? No, that's not right. He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Thanks for listening. And for the input." F chord, F chord. I fiddle with the tuners. "You know, Roger, you've gained weight, you've been sleeping through the nights just fine, you're eating, you've even been smoking less. I don't understand why you still insist upon keeping yourself cooped up like this. C'mon, you can come to St. Mark's with me. Maureen's already waiting there." I tell him no, as if he was expecting a different answer. I tell him I'm going to stay home, play my guitar, work on a song, and to that, he gives me a crooked, weak smile. "Well, alright then. I'm glad you're playing again, at least. It's a start, right?" He pats my shoulder before heading towards the door, grabbing his scarf and wrapping it around his neck, camera already in hand. "There's nothing in the fridge if you get hungry." I chuckle softly to myself. "But don't forget to take your AZT. Are you wearing your bee-" Before he can finish, I slightly lift my shirt up to show him the little black beeper clinging to the waistband of my jeans. "That's a good boy. I'll be back later." I hear the familiar scraping noise as the door slides shut. I sigh in relief. Finally, alone. C chord. D chord. E chord. F chord. Fucking F chord! I hear the door slide open. "Oh, and Rog?" I turn to see Mark's head peeking in, a smirk curving his lips. "How about tuning that damned thing?" He closes the door again just in time to miss the pillow I throw at him. Groaning, I fall back against the couch and close my eyes.

_Tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_Oh please tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_Give me a reason to end this discussion,_

_To break with tradition._

_To fold and divide._

_Cause I hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes,_

_Talking with strangers, waiting in line.._

_I'm through with these pills that make me sit still._

_"Are you feeling fine?"_

_Yes, I feel just fine._

"SPEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAK." The answering machine goes off and wakes me up. A beep, then a voice. It sounds familar. "Mark, Roger, Maureen. It's Benny." Great, fuck. "I shouldn't have to remind you that rent is due. Get back to me. As soon as possible." A click. I rub my eyes as I lift myself off the couch to delete the message. I figure, maybe if I delete it, it'll be like it was never there at all. Click. A long beep. And it's gone, gone for good. If only everything in life were that easy. Click. A long beep. April never died. Click. A long beep. You're cured. Yeah, if only... I drag myself back to the couch, shoving my guitar aside and propping a pillow under my neck. I feel my eyes start to droop again. The AZT makes me so damn sleepy... Fuck! AZT. I turn to the clock. Against the dusty surface, in little green letters it blinks six thirty seven. I should have taken my pill hours ago. I quickly get up and head into the bathroom, almost ripping the door off of the medicine cabinet and dropping the pill into my open palm. I pour myself a glass of tap water and am about to swallow the fucker down when I realize... There's no point in taking it now. My next dosage should be taken in a little less than two hours, but if I don't take it, Mother Cohen will notice the extra pill. I laugh to myself. Well, at least he can't ground me. There's still the question of what to do, though. What do to do...

_Tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_Oh please tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_I'm sick of the things I do when I'm nervous_

_Like cleaning the oven or checking my tires_

_Or counting the number of tiles in the ceiling.._

_Head for the hills, the kitchen's on fire!_

_I used to rely on self-medication,_

_I guess I still do that from time to time._

_But I'm getting better at fighting the future,_

_"Someday you'll be fine.."_

_Yes, I'll be just fine._

I press down the handle on the toilet and watch the little white pill swirl and swirl until it's sucked down and lost forever, gone for good. That solves it. Man, I'm getting better at this whole life thing. Satisfied with myself, I leave the bathroom. I'm shocked to see Mark sitting on the couch, slumped over, head in his hands. I didn't hear him come in. Curious, I make my way over to him, taking a seat behind him and cocking my head. "She cheated, Roger... Fucking cheated." Alright. Scratch that. Maybe I'm not so good at this life thing, after all. I don't really know what to say, so I ask if he knows the guy. "Girl." He says dryly. What the hell is he talking about? Maureen's not... "She cheated on me for a woman, Rog. I don't understand." If he didn't look so distraught, I would probably be laughing. Marueen left him for another woman? I knew she was a whore, but a dyke? He throws his hands up in the air. "She can't be! It's just a phase... It's just a phase, like girls and horses. I mean, she doesn't even like K.D. Lang!" At that, I can't help but to laugh under my breath. He shoots me a glare. "Oh, I'm glad one of us finds this funny, Roger. I guess I really am laughable, huh?" He sighs. "Maybe I sucked in bed. Why else would she do it?" I kiss him on the cheek and reassure him that he's probably great in bed. Of course, I offer to judge his performance whenever he's got some free time, but he declines with that same crooked, weak smile and swats me in the stomach. He starts to unwrap the scarf around his neck, but stops midway to ask me, "Hey, you took your AZT, right?" Something like that, I tell him.

_Tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_Oh please tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_Give me a reason (I don't believe a word)_

_To end this discussion (of anything I've heard)_

_To break with tradition (they tell me that it's not so hard)_

_To fold and divide (it's not so hard)_

_So let's not get carried (away with everything)_

_Away with the process (from here to in-between)_

_of elimination (the long goodbye)_

_I don't want to waste your time._

_Tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_Oh please tell me that you're alright,_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_(Alright)_

_Tell me that you're alright, (Hi, everything's great)_

_Yeah everything is alright. (Everything's fine)_

_Oh please tell me that you're alright, (Hi, everything's great)_

_Yeah everything is alright._

_(Everything's fine) _


End file.
